It's Cold Outside
by whatifellinlovewith
Summary: Meredith and Derek end an evening together at the trailer.


**So, this is my first Grey's Anatomy story, so it might suck, but I wanted to take a stab at it. Set somewhat in season 1, as though Derek told Meredith about the trailer before Izzie and George found out they were together, and as though Derek wasn't married.**

* * *

_I really can't stay. (Baby, it's cold outside)._

_I have to go away. (Baby, it's cold outside)._

_This evening has been... (Been hoping that you'd drop in)._

_So very nice. (I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice)._

* * *

She smiles at him, setting the wine glass on the small ledge next to the couch. As she pulls her hand back, she pulls the heavy blanket tighter around her body, enclosing her cold fingers in the thick woollen fabric. It swallows her, buries her small frame in it's bulk. It keeps her warm, almost as well as his arms do during late nights with little clothing.

He smiles at her, too, reaching over to pull some of her messy hair from the opening of her little cocoon. His fingers linger between the locks, pull ever so slowly as he slips them free. His hand falls to rest above hers, the cool of his skin seeping through the holes in the material that separates his palm from hers.

"You're so cute," he whispers, even though there's no one around for miles, -and they both know it.

"Compliments won't get you anywhere tonight, buddy," she responds, before he can give her the irresistible McDreamy look and she ends up naked in his bed tomorrow morning. "I have to go, before they realize that I didn't go home," she adds as an explanation when he pouts at her.

"We've been together for months, Mer. I'm pretty sure they've realized that you don't come home every night," he points out. "Besides, I'm worth it."

She removes her hand from the warmth that encases it to slap him in the chest. "You are too arrogant for you're own good." She laughs, and he catches her elbow before she can pull away completely, pulling her down next to him lap, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her thigh pressed to his.

"Oh, you know that I am, Meredith. You would put up with Izzie and George's nosy behaviour so you could stay here and have your wicked way with me," he teases, even though they both know it's true. His palms cradle the back of her head as she laughs, his lips finding heft throat as she throws her head back. "Or I could have my wicked way with you."

"Tempting," she admits, her voice just a little too breathy for it to not betray how truly, completely tempting it really is. But she forces her fingers to tangle in his hair and pull his head from the crook of her neck. "But I've already stayed here twice this week, Derek. One more and they'll realize I'm actually in a - hey, no distracting me - relationship and not just staying at the hospital overnight, or having - Derek, I said no distracting me - one night stands."

He's grinning at her when she finally stops and takes a breath, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at him. "You done? " he asks. She nods. "Good." And his lips capture hers.

Her eyes drift closed, and she once again finds herself succumbing to the sensation of his warm mouth, harsh teeth and talented tongue against hers. His hands remain in her hair, tilt her head back slowly. And hers, well, her fingers are lost in the perfectly mussed curls atop his head, pulling him closer despite herself. She's powerless. And he continues to pull her back, following her with his own body, until she's crushed between the blanket-covered couch and his body, both keeping her warm.

The pressure, though - the new position - snaps her mind back into place, remind her of Izzie and George and her house and that she's still at his trailer, and of all the questions she'll be asked tomorrow if she doesn't come to her senses and leave.

She half-heartedly pulls her lips from his and turns her head, pressing her face into the cushion below her to keep him from catching her lips again. "I really can't stay."

He smirks, and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, waiting for his reply. He nuzzles her neck with his nose, leans up to catche her earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently before releasing it. "But, baby, it's cold outside," he whispers into her ear, breath warm, voice low and husky. And she throws her head back on a laugh.

"That was so cheesy, or cliche, or whatever," she tells him. "And I'm serious Derek. The other interns can't find out that I'm sleeping with an attending-" she gasps as his lips enclose over her pulse point and suck lightly "-with you."

"Cristina knows," he counters, mumbling against her skin until she once again pulls him away from her. He pouts. "And she's an intern."

"She's different," she declares. "She's not like Izzie and George...all mushy gushy and whatever. She doesn't really care about my love life, not if I'm happy." She leans up, presses her lips to his quickly, before snaking out from beneath him and leaning against the armrest of the couch. For a moment, he settles against the couch, too, almost in defeat. "Izzie and George will throw a shit fit if they find out, and you know it."

Briefly, his eyes just linger on her, and she half-expects, but not really expects him to relent.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches over, his arms circling her waist, hands landing on her ass, pulling her into his lap. She giggles, reaches out to wrap her arms around his neck. His lips find hers briefly, almost playfully, before pulling away, suddenly serious.

"You know, they'll find out eventually, right. I mean, what will you do when we get married?" he asks, his voice low, his hands gripping at her waist as if he's scared that she'll run.

For a brief moment, she considers it.

But instead, she reverts to light-hearted humor as an escape mechanism. She raises her left hand from his nape, pointedly regards her ring finger. "I don't remember saying yes to any kind of proposal."

He reaches back, catches her fingers in his and brings her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her skin. "You're not ready," he says. "But one day, maybe soon, maybe not, you will be." His eyes bore into hers, completely serious. "And I'll ask, and you'll say yes, but by then, they'll have to know."

"I know," she agrees, her voice a little shakier than she intended. "I just... I'm... Fine." The word catches her off guard as much as it seems to catch him. And yet, she smiles, settles more comfortably on his lap. "They can find out. But I'm not telling them. We're just not hiding it anymore, okay?"

He answers her with a kiss, a soft, gentle caress of his lips. And then another, harder. And another, even harder, hands pulling her chest against his, cradling her rib cage. And another, pulling her down with him until he's lying on his back with her thighs bracketing his hips on the small couch beneath them.

His one hand trails up her back, fingers pulling lightly on the strands of hair that aren't drifting over her shoulders. And the other rubs a line down her spine, reaching the dip of her lumbar spine, pressing her lower abdomen and pelvis against him. She doesn't fight him.

Instead, she runs her own hands up the lines of his neck, around the base of his skull. Her fingers find the soft, curly hairs at his nape and she tugs lightly, tearing her lips from his. It doesn't deter him. His teeth scrape at her pulse point, his tongue soothing her skin, drawing a moan from her throat.

"Derek, I really should go. I have...pre-rounds tomorrow. And you make me...late. And Bailey's already mad at me for...sleeping with my boss," she mumbles, pausing to breathe, gasping for breath between words.

He laughs against her skin, his warm breath tickling her skin, the scruff on his chin scratching her neck. "I still haven't convinced you to stay? It's usually not this hard." He pulls away, looks up at her almost thoughtfully. "How hard will it be to finally convince you to marry me? One day?"

She laughs, leans down to press a peck to his lips. "As long as it doesn't mess with my job, not this hard," she promises, the ease with which the words throw through her lips surprising her. "But staying here for sex, and then getting distracted tomorrow morning when you want a quickie, only to stay, and make myself late, messes with my job." She presses another kiss to his lips before climbing off his lap.

He pouts at her as she pulls on her jacket, watches as he sits back up and goes to reach for her. In the narrow room, there's barely enough space for her to evade his reaching hands. Her own hands lands on the door handle, and she pulls the door open behind her.

"See you tomorrow," she tells him, waving goodbye.

"But, Mer, we just agreed that one day we will get married. We have to celebrate," he calls back. She rolls her eyes at the comment, exiting the trailer and closing the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, she's back in the trailer, straddling his lap, both their shirts thrown aside, his lips on her neck, her hands in his hair. Celebrating, she tells herself. Because she just agreed that they'd, one day, get engaged.


End file.
